


tomodachi

by peltonea



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Gen, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, M/M, Misunderstandings, New York City, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Satya and Hanzo are best buds, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peltonea/pseuds/peltonea
Summary: Hanzo Shimada's life is in tatters, thanks to a dispute with the family elders. At least his brother, Genji, is kind enough to let him sleep on his couch until he gets back on his feet. Said couch may be in a country he has never visited and city in which he knows nobody, but a bed is a bed and Genji's friends are surprising in more ways than one.





	1. the one with the kind of terrible beginning

Hanzo cracked one eye open, glaring at his phone as it buzzed insistently. 6AM was a horrible time to wake up, especially when one went to bed barely four hours beforehand. He had come home close to two in the morning and flopped down on the couch without bothering to organize the pull-out bed, barely even remembering to set his alarm. And now, Hanzo realised, as he attempted to stretch, he would have an awful crick in his neck the whole day. That was entirely his own fault, for being so careless.

Sure, Hanzo didn't have to take every possible opportunity for overtime, but he needed money and he needed to become invaluable to the Vishkar corporation as fast as possible. Satya might be sympathetic to his circumstances, but the others at Vishkar knew him only as 'the new guy in Finance'. American and Japanese social norms were so different; despite his co-workers continually talking to him, Hanzo found it difficult to make friends. He was sure that he came across as either extremely unsociable or intrusive, and the language barrier didn't help. Even when he wasn't working extra hours, that was exhausting. Still, at least it was Friday.

Hanzo dressed quickly, brewing tea for himself as he dragged a comb through his too-long hair. It fell past his shoulder blades now, taking any opportunity to tangle and knot itself into a mess. He really ought to have cut it years ago, but after Genji's exile the elders had been harder and harder to please, and his hair had somehow become a silent rebellion, even moreso than the tattoo they had hated. In any case, Hanzo was acutely aware that his features were far too sharp and hawkish for a more conventional haircut. He sighed at his split ends-- maybe Genji could help him trim those off?-- and tied his hair into a simple ponytail. That was a problem for another time. 

He brushed and flossed his teeth thoroughly, then sipped his tea slowly as he checked and double-checked the contents of his briefcase and his coat pockets. Yes, he had his MetroCard. Yes, he had his Vishkar security pass. Yes, he had his cigarettes and nicotine patches. He had remembered to leave his phone charging before passing out earlier, so he didn't need to worry about a flat battery. His headphones were exactly where he'd tossed them a few hours ago, on the coffee table, right next to his keys and his wallet. 

A few minutes later, Genji emerged from the bedroom. He gave his brother a bleary-eyed nod that presumably meant "good morning" before padding into the bathroom. Hanzo nodded back, then laced his shoes and pulled on his gloves and his scarf. He left the apartment before Genji could re-emerge and try to start a conversation. 

It wasn't that Hanzo disliked his brother-- far from it, he was immeasurably grateful that Genji had given him shelter and that they had started talking to one another again. Genji was just… very different. 

In the space of only six years, Genji had turned from a reckless, hedonistic youth to a calm, kind man. Where he had been arrogant, he was now humble. Where he had been insensitive, he was now thoughtful. Genji had even converted to Buddhism, forgoing meat and alcohol and attending meditation sessions every morning before work. Hanzo simply didn't know how to speak to this new Genji. It was almost as though he were a stranger who happened to have his brother's face. 

Perhaps, Hanzo thought as he locked the apartment door behind him, not returning home had been good for Genji. He really seemed to be flourishing in this country. That thought did not come without a pang of guilt-- Hanzo still regretted being the one to call Genji, still regretted not standing up against the elders, not doing something more to help his brother. But at the same time, everything had worked out for Genji, hadn't it?

Hanzo descended the staircase quickly and left the building, adjusting his scarf as cold air bit at his exposed face. The streets were slowly filling, streetlights still bright as dawn oh-so-slowly broke overhead. He headed toward the subway station a couple of blocks away, feeling distinctly underprepared for the day ahead. Still, his commute would take a good forty minutes, enough time to wake up properly before heading out into Manhattan's chaotic streets and the nonstop bustle of Vishkar's finance department. If he had to, he could grab some coffee from the office kitchenette. 

Tomorrow he could sleep in. Sunday, he'd continue his apartment search. And on Monday, he would start yet another week of working long hours and sleeping very little. Lather, rinse, repeat. It all seemed somewhat pointless.

Hanzo wondered if he could flourish here, too.


	2. the one with the minor intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like Symmetra, because I do. 
> 
> This was originally about three times the size, but I thought it worked better as several shorter chapters.

Hanzo's phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It was probably Genji, texting yet another meaningless update about people he did not know. It could wait another half hour, until he was well on his way home. And, regardless of what Genji wanted, Hanzo would be going home. He sorely needed a hot bath, to soothe the aching in his neck and back, and an early night, to make up for the sheer amount of sleep he'd lost over the last week.

Four hours of sleep simply wasn't enough to function like a rational human being. Hanzo had nearly strangled Sanjay earlier for singling him out in front of the whole office. Though his boss had been praising his performance, it was a humiliating experience, and Hanzo still had marks on his hands from clenching his fists so tightly. No, he needed sleep, and he needed it about ten hours ago. And a cigarette, or three. The patches kept the worst of his cravings at bay, but he still needed the smooth, dark taste of his favourite tobacco blend, and something to do with his hands.

Hanzo gritted his teeth and tried to remember what the spreadsheet on his computer screen was supposed to be showing. The numbers ran together, making little sense. They were disconnected from each other in their little boxes, the dates and values listed in rows and columns apparently random.

"Are you ignoring me, Shimada?" Satya asked, from behind him. Hanzo squeaked in surprise, spinning around to face her. She had a terrible habit-- equal parts irritating and impressive-- of appearing at Hanzo's cubicle, miraculously making no sound despite wearing stilettos on hardwood flooring.

"What?"

"You have not replied to my text messages, nor my emails," Satya clarified. "I have been attempting to get in touch with you for several hours now, and since those efforts appear to have been in vain, I came to speak with you personally. Have I offended you in some way?"

"No," Hanzo said. "Nothing like that. I apologise. My brother has been bombarding me with messages all day, so I stopped checking it. I did not want to become distracted."

Satya nodded approvingly.

"A wise decision, but I would advise you in future to check your inbox more regularly in such circumstances. Now, Sanjay has raised some concerns with me about the amount of overtime that you have been working--" Hanzo could not help but roll his eyes. Sanjay. Of course. "--as of late, so I…"

Satya frowned, and stopped speaking. Damn. She'd definitely caught the eye roll.

"Shimada, is there something wrong?"

"It is nothing," Hanzo muttered, embarrassed to be caught out like some moody teenager.

"I doubt that," Satya replied, pursing her lips. "We can go to my office, if you would prefer a more private discussion. It is just down the hall."

Hanzo sighed. Satya had a very forceful personality. She was like Genji in that regard. It was nigh-impossible to say no directly, so one had to deflect and hope that they would forget.

"It is nothing," he tried again. "It can wait until Monday. I am just very tired."

"That is what I wanted to talk to you about," Satya raised an immaculate eyebrow. "You are an excellent employee in every regard. I chose well.

"Thank you," Hanzo murmured, feeling that some response was expected of him.

"It is true," Satya insisted. "Sanjay even mentioned that he wanted to submit you as a candidate for our employee of the month. Given the size of Vishkar and that this is only your second month with us, such recognition is extremely impressive."

"Then what is the problem?" Hanzo asked, though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew what she was going to say. 

"The problem is that you are working yourself too hard," Satya said. "I know that you have good reasons for taking so much overtime, and usually I would not complain that you are hard-working, but you've clocked up an average of seventy hours a week for a job that requires fewer than forty. There is such a thing as a work-life balance, you know."

Hanzo nearly laughed at that. He did not need a work-life balance. He needed financial stability and his own damn apartment, as soon as possible. He needed to scrape together some small semblance of what he had before Father died. Before the clan had turned on him. Before... this. 

"As an administrator, I do not care. I understand that working like this is generally considered normal in Japan. But as your--" Satya hesitated for a split second "--aquaintance, I am worried for your personal wellbeing. And I am not the only one who has expressed concern."

"What do you want me to do?" Hanzo asked, the words coming out sharper than he intended. Satya did not seem to notice, and continued, impassive as ever.

"I cannot believe that I am saying this," Satya said. "But please refrain from working so hard. You are no longer with the Shimada family company. You have nothing to compensate for."

Hanzo said nothing. Her interference was unnecessary. He was absolutely fine.

"You look exhausted," Satya continued, with a trace of kindness in her voice. "There are about fifteen minutes left before you are due to leave. Perhaps you could use that time to refresh yourself, rather than squint at numbers that have likely lost all meaning."

Hanzo made a noncommittal sound, which Satya seemed to take as agreement. She gave him a respectful nod and left. As soon as Satya rounded the corner, he turned his attention back to the spreadsheet that had been slowly sapping his sanity for much of the past hour.

He would not be defeated so easily.


	3. the one where hanzo's very bad day gets worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ought to have mentioned this earlier, but italics inside speech marks indicates Japanese speech. This is because I don't speak any Japanese. Awks. 
> 
> The vast majority of this story is light-hearted nonsense, but subjects like homophobia and being outed will be present in some chapters, beginning with this one. Some later chapters will deal with issues relating to depression and anxiety. Please be aware of this.

Genji was loitering outside of the Vishkar offices when Hanzo finally left, having been thoroughly defeated by the spreadsheet. It had steadfastly refused to make any kind of sense, no matter how furiously Hanzo had glared at it. To make matters worse, Genji was not alone. A blonde woman and a bearded man stood a few feet away, watching him with curiosity. Friends, Hanzo assumed.

" _Brother!_ " Genji grinned, enveloping Hanzo in an awkward one-armed hug. Genji wore his usual attire: jeans and his winter jacket, a far cry from the neon monstrosities of his youth. One more change that Hanzo could not get used to. " _For a while there, I was sure you'd died at your desk. Were you seriously ignoring me the whole day?_ "

" _I had a lot to do,_ " Hanzo muttered. " _Why are you here?_ "

" _The party, of course! We couldn't just leave you to find your own way there!_ " Genji thumped Hanzo's shoulder enthusiastically.

" _I'm not going to your party,_ " Hanzo said, firmly. He took a cigarette from the crumpled carton in his jacket, lit it, and took a long drag. The smoke was almost sweet, a blessed relief after abstaining for so many hours. " _I'm going home to sleep._ "

" _What?_ " Genji looked distraught. " _But you have to come! I told everybody that they'd finally meet you tonight! They're expecting you!_ "

" _That's your fault, not mine,_ " Hanzo replied. " _I never agreed to come. You ought to have told me earlier._ "

" _We don't have to stay for long,_ " Genji said, sounding almost like a child again. " _Only like an hour, just enough to meet everybody and get some food. You must be hungry, right?_ "

Hanzo was indeed very hungry, but wasn't about to admit it. He gritted his teeth. Genji would not force him to some ridiculous social event he didn't want to go to. He'd had more than enough of that in their youth. He exhaled a lungful of smoke, and glared at Genji, who simply crossed his arms and pouted.

" _I can't believe you're turning down free dim sum and tea," Genji muttered. "It's at a really good place too. Their char siu is to die for. Makes me wish I still ate meat._ "

It had been a long time since Hanzo had indulged in a meal out, or at least it felt that way. Before his departure from Japan, he had been too busy arranging his visa and packing his surprisingly numerous belongings to do more than grab a store-bought bento or reheat whatever was left in his cupboards. After he'd arrived in America, his days had consisted mostly of working and worrying, so he hadn't bothered to do more than give Genji extra grocery money and trust that half-decent food appeared in the fridge. Which it had, as long as one liked tofu and kale.

" _We'd have an easier time getting home, too. Jesse promised to give us a ride back, since he lives so close to us,_ " Genji sighed, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the bearded man. " _He got the heating and the radio fixed just last week. Oh, and the seats are really comfortable. No dealing with the Metro at rush hour._ "

Although the New York subway system was overcrowded, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as Tokyo. Hanzo still had nightmares about asphyxiating on the way home from the office. A free car ride was tempting, but at the cost of spending several hours making uncomfortable small talk with total strangers? No. Absolutely not. There was no doubt that Hanzo would make a fool of himself in his exhaustion.

Hanzo took another drag of his cigarette. Genji tried a different tack.

" _Okay, so I took the liberty of signing Winston's birthday card from both of us. And if he asks, you helped me pick out his gift. The store was a specialty place somewhere in Chinatown, and definitely not Amazon._ " Genji winked. " _Last week, he talked at me for like twenty minutes about the problems facing independent traders in the internet age._ "

" _What is the present? It isn't anything obscene, is it?_ " Hanzo asked, more than a little suspicious. Genji was never nice. Not like this. Too many times in their youth, he'd asked for similar favours, always conveniently leaving out details which inevitably landed Hanzo in trouble.

" _No, it's just a teapot painted to look like that old TV show, Journey to the West,_ " Genji said, sounding impatient. " _Winston loves anything to do with Chinese folklore and literature. His dad used to tell him all those old stories at bedtime. Last time he got drunk, he told me this really long story about how he wanted to be Sun Wukong as a kid. Wild, right?_ "

" _That's… nice._ "

" _Yeah, Winston's a great guy. I'm sure you'll like him. He likes math, too. And old books._ "

" _Your friends sound like admirable people,_ " Hanzo sighed. He'd have to attend this stupid party, wouldn't he? Knowing his luck, he'd fall asleep on someone.

" _Oh, they are!_ " Genji grinned, and gestured to the two friends with him. He switched to English, dragging Hanzo toward them. "I'd like you to meet Angela Ziegler and Jesse McCree. Angela is a doctor at the hospital near us-- she's an incredible surgeon-- and Jesse is a writer and general jack-of-all-trades. We've been friends more or less since I arrived here, we went to the same college, you see."

"Hallo," Angela smiled, and gave a polite bow. Her hands were clasped demurely in her lap and her back was straight, head tilted toward the floor. Hanzo bowed in return. Her form was excellent, especially for a Westerner.

"Howdy," Jesse shook Hanzo's free hand, grinning broadly. His grip was firm, posture relaxed.

"Pleased to meet you both," Hanzo replied. He took another drag.

"So you're the infamous brother, huh?" Jesse asked. His accent was thick, some kind of Southern drawl. He stuck a thumb through his belt loop, shifting his weight casually. Hanzo glanced down at the movement, noticing that Jesse sported a shiny brass belt buckle. It had the letters 'BAMF' engraved in it. He'd have to ask about that at some point. Surely there was a story behind something so garish and yet clearly loved. 

"Genji has told us much about you," Angela said. Her accent was not American, nor was it typical of any Anglophone. 'Ziegler' was… German? It would be rude to ask, wouldn't it? "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"I have not heard much about you," Hanzo admitted, feeling slightly ashamed at that. Genji would likely fill him in later.

"Well, Genji here told us you weren't home all that much," Jesse said. "Putting in all kinds of crazy hours at this place. You like it?"

"I do not hate it," he replied. "Mostly, I need the money. I left Japan quickly and did not have time to plan ahead."

"Yeah, Genji told us all about that," Jesse nodded. "Terrible business, absolutely terrible."

"In what sense?" Hanzo asked, casually as he could manage.

If he were less exhausted, less on edge, then he may have let the subject drop and simply asked Genji later. As it was, he'd already had an awful day, and though Genji's friends were very nice, that did not mitigate the fact that this was an obvious attempt at manipulating him on Genji's part. And Hanzo had long had enough of being manipulated.

"Well," Jesse said, brow furrowing. "It ain't like you can help being what you are. Ain't no shame, neither."

"And what is that, exactly?" Hanzo asked. Genji swore under his breath. He'd figured out what Hanzo was getting at.

Jesse and Angela both wore expressions of confusion.

"Genji said…" Angela began, faltering quickly. She glanced at his brother.

"You're gay, right?" Jesse said, somewhat hesitantly. "Ain't a big deal 'round these parts, don't worry."

Hanzo gritted his teeth, white-hot fury burning through his stomach. How foolish of him, trusting that his notoriously disreputable brother would do the honourable thing and keep his secrets well-hidden. He glared at Genji.

"I regret to inform you," Hanzo said, addressing Jesse and Angela in carefully neutral tones. "I shall not be attending the party tonight. Nor will I be attending any future gatherings."

"Please listen," Genji said. "I would never try to humiliate you. I only mentioned it to them because they're my closest friends and--"

" _You had no right,_ " Hanzo snapped. 

"It came up in passing, that's all," Angela said, in the soothing tones of a professional hoping to defuse a situation. "After the funeral, your brother--"

"I do not care," Hanzo said. It was rude to interrupt her like that, but what did it matter? Clearly these people had no regard for things like basic respect. They'd even come as a group to ambush him, to force him out of his comfort zone without warning. If all of Genji's friends were this awful, then he was glad that he hadn't met them. "I am leaving. Goodbye."

Genji caught his arm, and Hanzo shook him off, striding into the crowds.

" _Brother!_ " Genji called after him.

Hanzo switched off his phone before Genji could text him some half-hearted explanation or apology. He did not look back. His brother's tactless nature had not changed at all. How stupid it was to believe otherwise. He walked as quickly as his legs would carry him, entering the subway station and swiping his card mechanically. He descended the stairs to his platform, lost in thought.

Of course Genji would act out, publicly humiliate him at the first chance he got. And why wouldn't he? After everything that had happened, perhaps Hanzo deserved it. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms, all those years ago. And yet Hanzo had honestly believed that perhaps they could salvage their relationship, become brothers again. How stupid of him. How stupid.

As Hanzo waited for the train, one thought in particular persisted. 

You should never have come here.


	4. the one with the first flashback and also zarya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not totally happy with this. I've had to re-write a couple of times already, but the ending in particular I'm just not feeling. At some point I'll go back and change it, but it's not today. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments, bookmarks and kudos. I'm afraid I'm not very good at replying, because I'm one of those people who overthinks everything, but please rest assured that I'm very thankful.

_"Does the family mean nothing to you? I expected better from you."_

Father sits in his chair, only the smallest of twitches betraying his fury. He is not the type of man to scream in anger, he is too dignified. Nonetheless, his displeasure is evident. Shame burns you from within, and you know that your face is flushed red.

Your eyes are politely fixed upon his mouth, watching the words fall from his tongue. Your legs are beginning to ache from holding a seiza position for so long. He has been speaking for almost forty minutes. A cup of tea-- given to you out of etiquette, not because you are permitted to drink it-- sits near your knee, now stone cold. Your mouth is dry, head beginning to ache. The hangover is setting in. Still, at least you were allowed to wash yourself and change your clothes before your audience with Father. 

His words wash over you. You are a disgrace. You are unworthy of the family name. The privileges you have enjoyed have been wasted upon you. (You have heard this speech already, mostly from the innumerable times Genji sat through it. Only once before has it actually been directed at you.)

_"You will not visit such an establishment again,"_ Father says. He hates law-breaking almost as much as he hates self-indulgence. An underground gay bar had not been one of your better ideas. _"You will not find yourself in such a compromising position again. Genji's antics were bad enough without this nonsense on top of it. Do you understand me?"_

_"I understand,"_ you reply. You hesitate. He has not mentioned your inevitable marriage. _"However--"_

_"There is no 'however',"_ Father snaps, uncharacteristically. 

You close your mouth. You ought to have known better than to try to argue your case.

_"That body does not belong to you. It belongs to the family, and you must serve the family with it. You have obligations. You are the eldest son, and that means putting aside your desires for the greater good of the family, and for our community."_

Your heart sinks. You understand his meaning already. Some part of you-- stupid, naive, irredeemably foolish-- thought that perhaps Father would understand your impossible position. That perhaps he would stop pushing you toward engagement with a clan-approved girl.

_"Do not think me heartless, son,"_ Father says, and there is almost something resembling softness in his tone. _"I understand that some of your duties will be difficult for you, but you must remember that the family's wellbeing is much more important than any one of us and our personal wishes. We have a reputation to uphold. I know that you understand this, far better than your brother ever will."_

Father is right. Father is always right.

Shame and sorrow burn your face, and your gaze turns impolitely toward the tatami mat you sit upon. Father does not scold you. He sees the way your hands clench the fabric of your hakama, the way you chew your lip. He is not without mercy.

_"You may leave."_

You bow deeply, pressing your forehead against the tatami in genuine apology. Your antics had lead to Father being forced awake early, causing no small amount of stress for him. The doctors had already warned him about his blood pressure. And now the elders would question him incessantly, undermining his authority, as they always had after Genji's stupid escapades. No, it would be worse this time. They will no doubt question his ability to lead the family if he could not even keep his sons under control.

You have made Father look a fool. And for what? A few hours of drunken dancing and a sloppy blow job?

You straighten, then shuffle backward in shikko until you reach the door. Father watches your slow departure, face unreadable. As your hand reaches the shoji door, he speaks.

_"Next time, have one of the servants call in an escort. At least they know how to be discreet."_

You leave, standing as soon as you close the door behind you. You walk as quickly as your traditional clothing will allow, willing your heart to stop racing. Father is not a blunt man. You must have embarrassed him even more than you realised.

You will not be an embarrassment again.

 

* * *

 

When Hanzo opened his eyes, Genji's apartment was uncharacteristically dark and silent. Usually, on a weekend, he found himself awoken by sunlight gently burning through his eyelids, thanks to his brother's awful habit of opening the curtains before he left the house. And if not that, then he was awoken by Genji pottering around the apartment, trying and failing to do his chores quietly.

Today was different. There was no radio blaring in the other room, nor was his brother attempting to silently make breakfast. He could see Genji's bedroom door from the couch; it was wide open, nobody in sight. Genji hadn't returned home yet. 

Hanzo checked the time. Ten thirty. So he'd been out for a good twelve hours, if not longer. He stretched, experimentally. He hadn't slept like that since childhood. The hot shower he'd allowed himself the previous night had done wonders for his back and neck. He rose quickly, dressing in a faded pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, then carefully folded his bedding and re-assembled the couch. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, and tried not to think about the previous night. 

Hanzo left the apartment. He had a lot to do.

Hanzo's first stop was at Siberia, a gym maybe half a block from the subway station he used each morning. It was close enough to Genji's apartment that he'd actually go on a regular basis, was snugly within his apartment search perimeter, and its Google reviews were excellent. He'd been neglecting his fitness since he arrived, and it was starting to become noticeable in the way his shirt-sleeves no longer seemed to fit quite right. Still, it was an easy fix. A few weeks of weightlifting and running, and he'd be good as new.

"Hello?" Hanzo called, pushing open the main door. It was located down a small side-street, taking up both the ground floor and the basement level of the building it occupied. The entrance room was small, with just a reception desk, a water fountain, and a few chairs, but it was clean and bright, well-designed. Through the door, he could see a fair number of patrons. A good sign.

"Privet!" a woman called, walking up to the reception desk. She was huge, at least six foot of pure muscle. Her hair was short, dyed a bright pink. "Welcome to Siberia!"

"You are Zaryanova, the owner?" Hanzo asked. The woman nodded.

"Indeed," Zaryanova said. "You are in need of assistance?"

"I was considering joining," Hanzo said. "How much do you charge?"

"Two hundred per month," Zaryanova replied. "Minimum."

Hanzo's jaw dropped.

"Is expensive, I know," Zaryanova said. "But includes unlimited use of equipment, locker, access to showers, the usual. Classes are extra. Two fifty, for that."

"That's easily a six-month contract in Tokyo," Hanzo stammered. "I could get a membership for less than half that two blocks away!"

"You could," Zaryanova said, impassively. "But gym two blocks away does not have me."

"Oh?"

"I am Olympic champion. Or, rather, was. Now I instil wisdom and strength into others," Zaryanova smiled, knowingly. "Free advice for you: stop skipping leg day. You look like chicken. Not good."

"Excuse me?" Hanzo could feel his face colour. How dare she?

"Is true," Zaryanova said, nonchalantly. "I give nutritional information and workout plans to all patrons. They get fitter. Good for patrons, good for business."

"I suppose the insults are free?" Hanzo scowled.

"Yes," Zaryanova replied, still irritatingly calm. "Never underestimate effect petty dislike has on willpower. Twenty squats turns easily to forty if you are angry enough." Zaryanova pointedly glanced down at Hanzo's legs. She tutted. "Squats will definitely be on plan for you."

"No, they will not," Hanzo said, through gritted teeth. "Because I will not take a membership here."

"You will," Zaryanova cooly replied, as Hanzo stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Stop number two was the local Asian grocery store.He found his genmaicha tea easily enough, and then his favourite brand of chocolate, Ghana. Genji's favourite, strawberry-flavoured Meiji, was there too. He hesitated for a moment. Should he bother with a peace offering? Hanzo was the one who had been wronged, after all. But on the other hand, he was well aware of how much he owed Genji for helping him move here, especially after their estrangement.

In the end, Hanzo picked up both chocolates, as well as a couple of bottles of ramune. If Genji was his typically thoughtless self, then Hanzo could have his sweets instead. A few more minutes of browsing produced a small jar of kimchi, a few packets of seaweed crackers, and a bottle of halfway decent drinking sake. He hadn't intended to buy so much. Still, the woman behind the counter didn't seem to judge his basket too harshly.

Stop number three was a bookstore, where he bought a book of numerical puzzles and a few English copies of novels he'd already read in Japanese.

Stop number four was the local subway station, to top up his card. 

Stop number five was a street florist he hadn't actually intended to look at, but the man had a small table filled with little bonsai trees, just like the ones Mother used to look after. He'd forked out the forty dollars the florist demanded, inexplicably homesick, taking one of the smaller trees. It was too large to fit into his book-bag, and the grocery bag was too full, so he'd had to cradle it awkwardly in one arm as he walked home.

Hanzo returned to Genji's apartment with some difficulty. Keeping the bonsai balanced on a bag-laden hand while he unlocked doors and trotted up staircases was no small feat, given the carelessness of Genji's neighbours. One young lady had almost knocked him over, barrelling down the staircase as though the world was ending. Both man and plant made it to the fifth floor in one piece, though Hanzo had been sure for a moment that something terrible would happen on the way past the fourth floor.

He pushed open the staircase door, and almost immediately walked into someone, bonsai slipping from his grip.

"Whoa, there!" a familiar voice said. Hanzo glanced up, and his stomach immediately sank. It was Genji's friend, the man he'd made such a terrible first impression on just yesterday. He glanced back at his plant, which had been deftly caught by Jesse.

"Thank you," Hanzo said, stiffly. He took the plant back, careful to hold it in both hands.

"You look like you're having a little trouble there," Jesse said. "Need any help?"

"No, thank you," Hanzo replied.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday," Jesse said, before Hanzo could leave. "I'm awful sorry. Wasn't my intention to cause any harm."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Hanzo replied. Genji's friends had been clearly surprised, at his outburst, likely being unaware of the complexities of the situation. That didn't mean that he liked either of them, or that the matter was in any way settled, but the apology was a nice gesture. And, Hanzo reminded himself, he had been quite rude to Angela. "I should not have reacted so badly. In any case, my brother is the one at fault."

"Yeah, I guess," Jesse scratched at his neck, as though uncomfortable. "Anyway, I can see you're busy. I just wanted to clear the air is all. See you round."

"Good day."

Jesse darted down the stairwell, and Hanzo continued on his way, stomach sinking further with every step. If Jesse were here, then it likely meant that Genji was at home. It was his apartment, after all. He had every right to be there.

Hanzo sighed, setting down the bonsai as he fished his keys from his pocket. He really didn't want to talk to his brother, but he couldn't exactly avoid Genji in his current situation. And even if he could, half of his motivation for moving to the US in the first place had been to fix things with Genji. He simply hadn't realised how difficult that would be, given their clashing personalities and equally stubborn temperaments. And Genji's complete and utter lack of anything vaguely resembling common sense. 

The lock clicked open, and Hanzo picked up the plant, stepping inside.


End file.
